Back to the Old House

It entered my head as I was laying down to sleep, the other night. My mind dug through my memories and took me back to where I lived when my parents first moved from Montreal to Ottawa.

I could see our garden-home neighbourhood, off Bowhill Avenue, and the many pathways and backyard common spaces. I saw the multi-tenant parking garages and the multi-vehicle, outdoor parking spaces. And before I drifted to sleep, I wondered what the neighbourhood looked like now.

So I went back during my lunch break, yesterday.

I have many memories from childhood. I remember our neighbours and the kids my sisters and I used to play with. I remembered one friend and his tragic end, and shared that story several years ago. I straightened the facts in a subsequent post.

I looked through old photo albums, looking for any photos that showed our Bowhill house and hood. I came across a few, going back to 1968, when we first moved in. I have a photo of my sister, Holly, and me standing at the front door. The photographer can be made out, slightly, in the reflection of the window next to the door. I can't identify the person but it appears to be a woman who is not my mother.

I also have photos from 1969, sliding on my toboggan down the sloped lawn of our neighbours from across the street, the MacDonalds. I remember Colin, who was Holly's age, and his sister, Jane, who was even older. The twins, Robert and Roberta, were only about a year old, the same age as my younger sister, Jen.

On my return, yesterday, I saw the MacDonald's old house and that sloped lawn, covered with snow, and remembered that day of tobogganing.

The old MacDonald house, next to the parking garage. That slope seemed larger and steeper, then.

In 1970, my uncle and aunt, Richard and Wendy, came to visit. There's a picture of him holding Jen in front of the kitchen window, at the front of the house, with my head at the bottom-right of the frame. I also have a photo, from the same year, with a garden hose. I'm apparently washing cars but it looks like I gave Jen a shower, too.

The parking space was filled when I visited it, yesterday.

Looking at the neighbourhood, things hadn't really changed much. The doors had changed but the houses were the same. The parking garages now had gates: anyone could pull in when we lived there. We used to boost ourselves onto the rooves of the various parking garages and sometimes even rode our bikes on the flat surfaces.

I looked at my old house and remembered our next-door neighbours, the Thompsons. Paula, who was also Jen's age, would later become friends with DW, when they were in high-school together. I last saw Paula about six years ago. Sadly, she's no longer with us.

My old house, on the left; Paula's house, with the blue door.

After Paula's house, there was a gap between the units that led to an inner courtyard and some backyards. The next house, after the gap, was the home of Bernice and Jack: Bernice became friends with my mom and I have memories of visiting, and Bernice teaching me how to play "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star" on her piano.

Their son, Greg, would later marry my mom after my parents split up. He's really the only father I've ever truly known.

Next door to Greg's folks was my friend, Charlie, who I've mentioned at the start of this post.

Now that I've been back to this old house, I've wondered about some of the other houses we've lived in, in Parkwood Hills. Two of the houses are very close to this one but I didn't feel like driving by them on this particular day. Maybe, when the snow is gone, I'll take another drive out this way.

Just for nostalgia.

Happy Thursday!